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After an entire night of conversation, Gotthardt more or less understood this world and what had happened over the past ten thousand years.
He handled it far better than Ignis expected; although he clearly noticed Salamander was telling the story in the best possible light, he still showed understanding. He even said Ignis could visit more often—there were still many things he wanted to learn. While he could no longer participate in the wars of that world, even just listening to someone recount them was enjoyable enough.
After all, no one knew when his Dreadnought body would be able to start up again.
A few days later, after Salamander delivered an order to the Blacksmith's Association, he went to chat with his big brother again and keep him company.
To protect the secrecy of the Dreadnought, Belobog Heavy Industries had already transferred it into their warehouse. At the same time, all the paperwork had been filed: this "Old Capital Era Humanoid Engineering Machine," excavated from within a Hollow, was officially recognized as Belobog Heavy Industries property. The current story was that the company was attempting to install an intelligent core into this humanoid engineering unit, which would then be used in Hollow construction work.
"Although the warehouse has an ether-electric hybrid engine, we need to modify it based on the internal structure of this frame to ensure stable operation after installation." Grace was modeling the cavity of the Leviathan Dreadnought's power chamber with her equipment. "We also need a deeper understanding of these pipelines' functions so we can determine the engine's wiring structure."
"Sounds like a major project." Ignis stepped toward the Dreadnought's front. "Looks like it'll still be a while before it moves again."
Hearing this, Gotthardt himself didn't mind at all. He let out a laugh. "It's fine. I have plenty of time to wait. Speaking of which, when you used your power on me a few days ago, my pain eased a lot. I even slept for a bit. You don't know… ever since piloting this Dreadnought, nightmares have never left me."
Grace jumped down from the Dreadnought's interior and walked over, scribbling on her tablet while talking nonstop: "The nuclear reactor previously installed produced high output, but its radiation shielding was terrible. Your symptoms were most likely caused by excessive radiation exposure."
After finishing, she lifted her head and looked at the old veteran in the sarcophagus. "But don't worry—I'm planning to switch you to clean energy. And based on my calculations, the output shouldn't fall too far. The interior space is huge; I think I could even fit two ether-hybrid engines with room left over. If I streamline the design, maybe even three."
So, this is pushing them to further miniaturize their engines? But three engines… wouldn't that burn Fuel like crazy? Still, judging from how they used those three industrial automatons without any concern for cost, they didn't seem to lack money.
"Can my weapons systems be restored, Miss Grace?" Gotthardt clearly cared about the Dreadnought's armaments.
"That quad-linked autocannon is basically impossible to repair. We don't have the tech for it. Unless you agree to hand it over to Three Gates Corp. for disassembly and research—they do have a complete military-industrial system." Grace pulled a towel from a pile of odds and ends and wiped off her sweat.
The heat had been rising recently, and the warehouse didn't store anything requiring cooling. Under hours of sunlight, the inside was scorching. Even though Grace wore only a sports-bra-like top, sweat still coated her skin.
"As for that giant claw, that one can be restored. Reconnecting the internal power conduits and it'll work. But we need to study the material of those conduits and find appropriate substitutes. However, the launcher embedded in the center of the claw is heavily damaged—almost certainly beyond repair." After wiping her sweat, she grabbed a bottle of water and drained most of it in one long tilt of her neck. Her food rations were all high-concentration battlefield supplies.
"Alright, I'll head out first. I need to debug things at the site on Friday—looks like that kid has run into some problems." Grace stepped off the lift and turned toward Ignis to speak.
"The construction site hasn't been very peaceful lately. Ethereal attacks on the area have increased. Even though Anton and the little ones work hard to eliminate the Ethereal, progress is still being delayed. Those kids have taken some damage too. We might need to hire the Cunning Hares to help clear the nearby Ethereal."
"If you submit a request, Boss Nicole will be more than happy to take it. The Cunning Hares are always ready to serve you." Ignis tapped his chest.
"I'll talk to the little one about it." Grace waved goodbye to the old veteran. "I'll be back around dinner. For now, I'll leave you in Ignis' company."
The Iron Witch seemed in high spirits. She walked out while reading her tablet, muttering under her breath about engines and similar topics.
"To be honest, this lady is far more reliable than those red-robed fellows from the Adeptus Mechanicus." Gotthardt looked at Salamander. "How's your life here? With your arms and legs intact, I imagine you're living far more comfortably than I am."
"I'm doing fine. I joined a labor dispatch company. People call us the Cunning Hares. Boss Nicole is a sharp and clever lady—very much like a sly rabbit."
A smile crept over Salamander's face. "My coworkers are good people—some are Beastmen, some robots."
"To tell the truth, this is my first time seeing a Man of Iron with citizenship, even if only in magazines. Back during the Golden Age, they were apparently common. Seems the technological development of this world isn't bad at all." The old veteran looked at Salamander. "You said The Emperor sent you to purge Chaos. You explained the four Chaos Gods to me these past days. How many of them are confirmed to be invading this place?"
"Khorne has taken control of a gang leader named Razor, but during an earlier conflict, I cooperated with the local Public Security—the department similar to Hive Arbites—and dealt a heavy blow to his forces. He's been in recovery since, not very active. I made contact with an undercover officer from Public Security; she helped me obtain Razor's coordinates inside the Hollow. Now those coordinates are being decrypted by a hacker who's on good terms with Boss Nicole. Once the decryption is done, I'll have a Proxy take me into the Hollow to eliminate him." Ignis reported his progress to the old veteran, sounding almost like a subordinate giving a field update to his superior.
"Tzeentch corrupted a mortal earlier and caused an incident—I've already resolved that. There are no signs of further Tzeentch corruption for now, so all I can do is continue gathering intel. As for Nurgle, I haven't seen any strange plagues appearing across the Inter-Knot. It seems he hasn't made a move yet. Nurgle tends to be lazy—maybe he's uninterested in this place, or perhaps there's another reason."
"The biggest problem is Slaanesh." At the mention of the Prince of Pleasure, his head began to ache. "There's a fairly high-ranking daemon of Slaanesh here—a Slaanesh Vanguard has manifested. I've already fought him once. Neither of us won, and he escaped. Before that, I destroyed several Slaanesh cult dens, including a narcotics workshop made from living human organs and an elite club that used the sex industry to corrupt humans."
"Based on what you told me about Slaanesh, the damage you've dealt probably isn't fatal." The old veteran pointed out seriously. "The ones that get discovered are usually sloppy, not hidden well enough, or too flashy. My personal opinion—this is only the tip of the iceberg. If you can locate that Slaanesh daemon directly, don't be in a rush to kill him. Interrogate him. Make him spill enough secrets."
Although the old veteran's suggestion had no flaws, it would be difficult for Salamander alone to overpower a Slaanesh Vanguard capable of wielding warp sorcery. And trying to interrogate a daemon of Slaanesh could easily please it, yielding nothing useful.
"If I could move, I'd join every one of your combat missions." The old veteran fixed his gaze on Salamander. The Son of Stone never abandoned duty. "To exterminate the enemies of The Emperor and mankind—that is our duty as the Adeptus Astartes. The Imperial Fists never forget their duty."
The old veteran spoke and extended his remaining left hand, forming a fist.
"My brothers called me Steelgrief, because I completed my missions through sheer determination in countless battles. In my final fight before entering the Dreadnought, I became separated from my squad but crossed paths with a group of rebels. I rushed out from the shadows and cut down three of them before they could react. Then in close combat, I took down five more. After that, my blade snapped, so I pulled a melta charge and went down fighting with them." Light flared in the old veteran's eyes, pride radiating through every word. "When I woke again, I was already inside the sarcophagus."
"That is truly awe-inspiring." Ignis lowered his head in respect.
"Right, there's something else." The old veteran shifted topics. "Could you explain to Grace that while my livery can be repainted for engineering purposes, the warning stripes must not be yellow-and-black? I do not wish to be reminded of those traitors' disgraceful name."
"No problem. I'll tell them it's a matter of custom." Salamander nodded. "Red-and-white or red-and-yellow should be fine, yes?"
"Red-and-yellow is best. Those two colors are part of the Chapter's livery." The old veteran then asked Ignis, "Tell me about the Hollows. What were your adventures in there like?"
So, today's storytelling session shifted to Ignis recounting his experiences in the Hollows—how he first arrived in this world and met Anby and Billy, and later joined the Cunning Hares to retrieve a lost safe.
The old veteran listened with keen interest, occasionally commenting on some of Ignis' tactical decisions, making Salamander feel as though this was more of a teaching session. But the experience of an old veteran was priceless; not even every Chapter Master or Captain had the chance to receive guidance from a Dreadnought.
They talked until Grace returned.
The Iron Witch brought back a family-size bucket from the burger shop, and to make it easier for the old veteran to eat one-handed, she adjusted the lift so its platform hovered at Gotthardt's chest height.
"Looks like this cockpit needs some modification. At the very least, it should be able to hold things. Otherwise, if you're using a phone or eating, doing it with one hand is inconvenient." Grace pondered aloud. "Welding a few storage racks onto it might work."
"See? Isn't she far more considerate than those red-robes of the Adeptus Mechanicus?" The old veteran was delighted—living with only one functional hand was inconvenient.
Ignis really wanted to make a snarky comment, but held it in.